I don’t hate Kid Kash. He’s a serviceable, mid-level talent who, while a little past his prime, can still act as a decent opponent who can put a young guy over in a decent match. This match, though. It was not great. So in lieu of actually writing about this match, you get this instead.

****

“Oh man, why do they get to have all the fun?”

Christian York let out a frustrated grunt as he landed a spinning heel kick on the stack of empty pizza boxes in front of him. Frustrated, he stomped over to his bed, then proceeded to flop himself down on the mattress.

“How does this even happen? I mean, we’re already a bunch of mutant freaks. Why do they get to wear masks and hang out with a hot read head, and I have to stay down here in the sewers? Just because I’m orange doesn’t mean I’m any less tubular than they are! When do I get to go above ground and kick butt? Is all this training for nothing?”

York sighed, finally permitting the tears to fall. Suddenly, there was a knock on the drain pipe. He rushed to dry his face using his newly bleached dreads. “Come in!” he said, trying his best to sound composed.

“N-n-no. N-n-nothing!” York tried, but it was too late. He was now sobbing uncontrollably, his words coming fast and harsh. “UGH! It’s EVERYTHING! Everything’s wrong! I have to stay cooped up down here like some kind of monster while all of my brothers get to go into the city whenever they want. It’s because they’re green and I’m not, isn’t it! I’m weird and a failure and you think I’m going to let everyone down just because I’m different! They get to play heroes all day and I’m trapped down here like…like a loser!”

Splinter took a deep breath, pressing his eyes closed as he did. He knew this would happen sooner or later, but no amount of preparation could ease the sting of guilt he felt in his heart.

“Christian, you are right. You are different. The world is a cruel place, but no more cruel than the prison of our own mind. I have tried to shield you from the world, to keep you safe and happy down here while your brothers fight the injustices and evils up above, but I see now this was not the right path. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

Looking back on this moment, York wished he could have reacted differently. That he would have comforted his father, apologized and thanked him for his love and kindness. Instead, this moment would be one of regret, even shame for him later in life. Running away to Orlando where he could be accepted, nay celebrated, changed Christian York’s life, but at what cost? Losing the respect of his turtle brothers? Never getting to tell his father that for once, he was well and truly free?

If only his father could be there with him now. Here he was about to face his toughest opponent, his own personal Shredder: Kid Kash. Kash had beaten him before. He had the experience, and the battle scars to show for it. But if there wasn’t time for an evening skateboard ride to clear York’s head, there definitely wasn’t time to dwell on the past.

As Christian York descended the ramp at the Impact Zone, he felt a change come over him. He felt stronger, bolder. Splinter had always believed in him, and the thought bolstered York’s courage. His father was there, after all. His father walked behind him in his steps, and lived on in his heart. As he reached the ring, preening to the crowd, York saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He could do this. He could beat Kid Kash. He could beat Kenny King. He could be the next X-Division champion. And maybe, just maybe, he could hang out with a red head of his own.

Worst, with the assist from my boyfriend Matthew: Chavo Guerrero

And I quote: “OH GOD, SHUT UP CHAVO. JUST GO BACK TO BEING AN EFFING BIRD.”

I’m pretty sure TNA is trying it’s best to make Kurt Angle’s Brischoff shipping as canon as possible, and I am ON BOARD.

Worst: Bully Ray is a bad boyfriend

So, first you get all up in this girls stuff, then you insist that nothing is happening despite video evidence to the contrary, THEN all of a sudden you’re together and willing to defend her? Really?

Brooke, I don’t like you, and you don’t know me, but allow me to be the Get a Grip friend you so sorely need. Take a step back, open those dead, emotionless eyes of yours, and realize that the dude you’re dating basically just insinuated that you are his niece. I know the obvious joke is that you’re into that, but I will avoid it because it’s old hat and also ew. If he’s not stepping up and admitting that you’re the only one he wants to press into the back of an SUV while a television camera films you making out, then maybe you should do yourself a favour and move on. Believe in yourself, girl power, Greatest Love of All lyric, etc. This is a toxic situation and you’re better off.

And don’t waste your time looking at Garrett or Wes. They’re taken.

Best: I see what you did there, Hogan

I can’t get down on this whole thing, because the subtext of this entire storyline is great. Hulk, the road-weary father, has spent his life watching this business chew up and spit out lesser people. Now that his daughter is involved, not only does he have to deal with protecting her from the perceived evils of what has proven to be a hard and tragic business, but also his own mortality as his little girl grows to a woman. She’s got aspirations in a business whose depth she may not be ready to comprehend, no matter how much time she’s spent around her father and his colleagues, and his need to protect her is only further exasperated by the fact that she is also dating Bully Ray. This presents an added betrayal of confidence, given that Hogan and Bully Ray have worked together for so long, and the friendship and trust they’ve built in an environment of shady deals and shadier personalities has suddenly been torn to shreds by the lies of his daughter and one of his most trusted colleagues. Flustered and impotent, Hogan lashes out with the only means of control he has, banishing both his former friend and his own daughter from the ring, the true castle-construct in his own mind.

I mean, come on. This is captivating storytelling to its very core.

Worst: We can’t all live in good intentions, Impact

Unfortunately, instead of getting Carmen at the Met, we get Carmen: The Hip-Hopera: Talented performers (and Brooke) attempting to execute a grand story on a grand level, but instead giving us an underwhelming dud on a sub-par television network.

Also, if this were twenty years ago, Brooke would be four years old, and Bully Ray would be in prison learning a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘tag-team specialist.’

I won’t do the full read on this until tonight, so I won’t get to comment on specifics until likely tomorrow morning, but I do want to reiterate how much I appreciate Danielle for writing this fantastic column to accompany my guilty pleasure.

For the time being here is another Jebediah Park story, as recounted by his lifelong friend Ebenezer Farkas Gilkenstodder:

Jebediah’s Nearly Roasted Chickens

Jebediah Leviticus Park was born in 1884 to Grover and Eunice Park in East Squirrelville, a small, tight knit, rural community in Wahacheetalle county West Virginia. I first met Jebediah, or Jeb, as he was known by most, when he was but a wee 9 year old runt. Even at that young age he had the strength of a full grown man, through you could hardly tell from his frame.

Now Jeb was always well meanin’, but he did have a tendency to stir up trouble. One day when I was 13, Jeb was 12 at the time on account of him being younger, he done convinced me to come with him and sneak into farmer Cormer’s chicken coop. I wouldn’t call Jebediah a thief myself, least not to his face or in good company, but the man sure did have a love for eggs and boys will be boys.

We waited until dusk and dug a tunnel with our hands under the back of farmer Cormer’s wooden fence. In hindsight, it probably would have been easier just to climb over as the fence was only 2 feet tall, but that’s another matter altogether. We crept up to the coop under the cover of darkness and slipped inside. Boy, you should have seen the glee on Jeb’s face as he filled his stretched out shirt with those eggs. The whole plan seemed like it would fly without a hitch. We was bona fide adventurers recovering a great treasure from a hidden temple.

As we was leavin’, in his haste and merriment at the golden price he carried, Jeb done knocked over an oil lantern we had used for light, on account of it being dark and all. The lantern fell and broke on the floor with a crash that shook us both. The oil spilled and splattered, spreadin’ fire with it that quickly covered the whole doorway. Being young and all, we both panicked and fled just as fast as our legs could carry us. Then we hid behind a tree not far off and watched in horror as smoke billowed up into the sky, thinking of the horrible life of breakin’ rocks while chained and imprisoned for our deeds.

Farmer Cormer noticed the smoke and ran out screaming for help. Now in Wahacheetalle county, when one was in trouble, we all was in trouble, and the whole town of East Squirrelville sprang into action. Now I tells ya, Wahacheetalle county done had the best volunteer fire department this side of the Mississippi. Why, we had a dozen buckets with but a single hole between all of ’em, and a whole crew of volunteers to ferry to water from the river to the fire all assembly line like. Why even ol’ Sally Lanside and Betty Graber worked side by side to hand down buckets, when not weeks earlier they had been squabblin’ over ol’ Billy Backenhatch. Even with the whole town workin’ together and ferryin’ the buckets of water just as fast as they could, the fire roared on and the smoke continued to billow into the sky with fury and anger.

It was at that moment, and boy I still remember this clear as day, that Jeb, overcome with guilt and grief, emerged from the hidin’ tree and ran out into the open. He fell to his knees, opened his arms, looked up, and cried to the heavens, “Oh Lord, I hath made a most foul transgression. I done stole farmer Cormer’s eggs, and I set fire to his coop. Lord, I didn’t mean to set that fire, I swear, but now those birds are trapped inside. Please Lord, don’t let those wonderful chickens pay for my sins, what with their golden brown feathers, pointy beaks, and deeeeeelicious food ovals. Please lord, I beg of you, save those chickens and take me instead.” I was so moved by those words that I wept openly, and as I looked out on the faces of the townsfolk, lit up by the fire, there was not a dry eye in the bunch.

Now some may call it a coincidence, but I know better. Why not minutes later it had been bone dry, when suddenly the heavens opened up and a mighty rain descended upon Wahacheetalle country. The rain fell and fell with force and purpose and the flames were soon extinguished. By the grace of God, not one chicken was harmed in the fire, but the coop itself was badly damaged. You best believe we spent the better part of the summer helpin’ farmer Cormer build a new coop and pain his fence and tend to his garden.

I will say I’m glad Abyss is on my TV every week without being put through glass, tacks, nails, razorblades or tossed off scaffolds. If only Daffney could have avoided that fate too. I am seriously happy to see him working and making money and not endangering himself for stupid stunts. I’m sure they’ll ruin it and set him on fire at the next Victory Road ppv but for now he’s ok.

I agree! I love me some Abyss, and I’m generally happy when people I like get to do things that aren’t putting themselves through needless harm. I feel like Joseph Park is one of the smartest things TNA is doing, and they seem to be paying enough attention to continuity (did I really just say that about TNA?) that we don’t forget about things that have happened in his storyline along the way. Like seeing blood and Abyss-ing out. It’s great.

Oh no, let’s please stick with ‘cafe door’. I can imagine Kurt Angle walking out of a Starbucks, accidentally hitting the door, poorly selling it and then blading while the camera panned back to the dastardly door.

I’m also going to be attending that SMASH Wrestling event. If any GTA With Leather fam wants to powerhang, I’ll be the doughy guy in the beard with a sassy t-shirt. (I’m sure that’ll totally narrow it down.)

1) For that answer see Mysterio, Rey
2) lol, Samoa Joe
3) I think Mike Knox could end being the most likeable of all Aces and Eights. I mean, we’re predicting D-Lo and Brischoff, and we already have AU Devon and D.O.C. who is seriously the worst. So..probably.
4) Mike Tenay is a terrible, terrible commentator, and thinks that bragging about getting WWE’s castoffs is a good thing. I mean, sometimes it can be, but when you have to tell people that he was once employed by the giant whose shadow you’ll always be living in, you’re probably better off letting people figure that out on their own, and have TNA Mike Knox build his own character and personality. Now people will be like “If you hated Kelly Kelly showing off her goodies, how the hell are you comfortable letting these chicks all but fellate Mr. Anderson on screen? Oooweee, what’s up with that?”

I am always here to answer your questions as best I can, even if that answer is “lol TNA.”

I enjoyed the write up. I am also tempted to make it out to the wrestling show in the Gta, but I don’t think my love for pro wrestling extends behind secretly watching it on TV. Anyways, all that being said, I hate to be this guy, but it’s not fair to slam and fight against slut shaming and then make a prison rape joke.

Sorry, guys. But also thanks for reading even if you don’t watch! When it comes to episodes like this one, I feel like you might be better off. When it comes to episodes like last week, if you’re not watching you’re a chump. I chump I love and appreciate forever, but still. Bro. /flexes /drops mic

Vitamin C sighting! Reading Best & Worst of TNA just makes me wonder how I ever managed to watch it for so long back in the day. I am saddened greatly by Ring Ka King ending though, and not just because I’m madly in love with Kubra Sait and her unbelievably sexy voice. And to reiterate, Mumbai Cats!

I know I’m in the minority when I say that Bobby Roode used to be boring and basic as hell. He was the Jacob Cass of TNA: The CAW no one actually wants, but you’re stuck with him so you try your best to like him, but at the end of the day you just want to breeze through his section and just go back to the infinitely cooler United Kingdom storyline

Could not have agreed more. Roode was anemic for years, but it looks like one of those cases where bishoff and co knew how to utilize and elevate his talenr better then past writers. And he has also improved tremendously in the ring. His matches used to be a slow chore to sit through/ Over the past 2 years, he improved his craft and it really looks like he get it ring wise and his matches are usually the best part on Impact, notwithstanding his promos.

I’ve mentioned this before, but Daniels may very well be the glue that holds this show together. He is so dedicated to fleshing out his characters that regardless of how many turns he makes, he comes off as the heeliest heel who ever heeled and the faciest face who ever faced. We buy into it because HE buys into it. And I love that he’s taking Frankie along for the ride. AJ could never keep up.

the best, worst and ~things that happened~ of TNA IMPACT! = best title for an article or a column ever in history of all time !
also ring ka king was my favourite wresling show BY FAR when it was on even though I couldn’t understand 90% of what was being said !!! and you referring to it is one more reason that makes me absoloutly LOVE~ you danielle ! YOU’re my favourite wrestling fan ever !!!